Friday, May 1, 2009

Impact minus the first hour!

Haha ol' Andrew... what WON'T I do? Well this time, what I won't do is be home in time to see the first hour of impact. So let's pretend, for the sake of all involved, that this is only an hour show. Yay!Motor City Machine Guns are convinced Christopher Daniels AKA DANIELS is Suicide! And he says he isn't! And then he beats them up!Mick Foley fails to recruit Samoa Joe to help him, I dunno. Whatever. The commercial for Transformers 2 came on and it was reallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll awesome. That will be the best movie ever, even better than Transformers 1! I'm gonna drink 6 Pepsis and see it twice!So then the best run of match to segment ever happened as Cody Deaner my main mans wrestled Abyss. He hit Abyss with a bunch of weapons and Abyss bled a little bit, then he was just like GRAAAAAAAARGH and crushed Cody Deaner which was sad but still awesome. Then, because TNA loves me all of a sudden, dear, confused little Lauren interviewed Daffney and it was awesome because Daffney is crazy and they both love Abyss.Oh you know what? I didn't pay attention to any of the rest. I'm sorry guys. There was something with Samoa Joe being a bad friend and then Mick Foley did something and a sleazy guy hit him and Kurt Angle and there we go.Who cares, you know.

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6-3-94 Manifesto

In the days of ancient Rome men tried to best each other physically by imposing their will on one other. Sometimes this lead to the death of one of the competitors. Sometimes it lead to a friendship or brotherhood bond being formed. More often than not it ended with the two dudes fucking the shit out of each other. Faggotry and wrestling have long had a mutually parasitic relationship. Where faggotry is afoot wrestling cannot be far behind. Where there is wrestling you can rest assured that faggotry is nearby, jerking off furiously. This is the way it has always been and the way it shall always be. Though men have tried to change this dynamic throughout the ages they have all failed. Spandex, pyrotechnics, midgets, fake tits and sports entertainment cannot mask the overwhelming scent of gay that always accompanies wrestling. You can always be certain of these three things: The sun always rises in the morning, politicians always lie and wrestling will always be gay as fuck. We are merely observers; scribes charged with the duty of recording, analyzing and mocking this faggotry. These are our words.